


I love you

by KFlynn



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Actually really sad, Drabble, Grantaire's POV, Introspection, Love Confession, Sad, but not sweet, he loves Apollo, inside Grantaire's head, people dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 04:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19845853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KFlynn/pseuds/KFlynn
Summary: The shaking table wasn’t the only thing waking him from his slumber. It mostly were the shouts, the shots and the people running around.When he slowly opened his eyes, it took a bit for everything to come back into focus. The first thing he saw was the wood underneath his head, the dirt on top of it, and then the bottles. Some were lying on the side, from one precious wine was dripping onto the table and its smell filled his nostrils.--or Grantaire's and Enjolras' last moment together when they face the soldiers





	I love you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hi0ctane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hi0ctane/gifts).



> This was written for my bestest of all besties! I am sorry that it's so short, and also that it's so sad, but the plot bunny bit into my leg and didn't want to let me go until it was written.
> 
> So here it is.
> 
> Basically their last moments together and Grantaire's thoughts about it all. Probably really sad.

The shaking table wasn’t the only thing waking him from his slumber. It mostly were the shouts, the shots and the people running around.

When he slowly opened his eyes, it took a bit for everything to come back into focus. The first thing he saw was the wood underneath his head, the dirt on top of it, and then the bottles. Some were lying on the side, from one precious wine was dripping onto the table and its smell filled his nostrils.

He blinked and tried to focus more, as people rushed by his vision, distorted as he saw them through the dark green wine glass right in front of him.

But when he moved his head and slumped back into a somewhat sitting position, he saw them fully. Guards, with guns, their backs to him. And in front of them, standing in front of the window with the sun illuminating his every being was he – Apollo.

No one had seen him. He could just close his eyes and rest on the table, or even get up and move to the back, disappearing from this moment. But somehow his eyes were glued to the God standing there, to the God whose face wasn’t shining any less bright even though blood was flowing down his temple. To the God whose hands tightly clutched the red fabric as he looked into the face of death.

And in that very moment Grantaire knew that he was doomed.

Ah, scratch that. He had been doomed from the moment on he had seen Enjolras, from the first time he had listened to his voice and his speeches. A voice that could stop him from drinking, a voice that made hope flare up in is heart, where he had before only suspected dread and numbness. But suddenly there was something, suddenly there were emotions. Suddenly there was a hesitation in bringing the bottle to his lips, to joke, to laugh about it all.

Suddenly there was Apollo and he couldn’t speak, he could only listen and feel.

It made him question if such things as destined meetings existed for real? If this was destiny? Or maybe it truly was his choice, and he only thought about it as destiny so to not trouble his mind in thinking further about all of this. In thinking about what this choice could and would mean for him.

He knew that this could all very well end up in death. He was no idiot, although he was best at pretending to be one. But nay, he wasn’t one, and he knew. He knew that if he stayed, that if he dared to mingle with Apollo, that death would be close, would be hiding behind the next corner. And yet he had stayed, yet he hadn’t run.

A part of him had tried to, mind him. A part of him had tried to drown in all this alcohol, but these emotions didn’t go away. It didn’t matter how much he drank, one gaze of his Apollo and his world came to a stop.

What was it? What was this emotion? What should he call it? Obsession? Love?

But what was love to him when Apollo clearly was only focused on his mission, when there were no heated gazes shared, no kisses on his eager lips, no hands on his willing body? Nothing of the sort had happened, never had he been touched by this God. And yet his heart ached and longed for him and he had stayed.

Slowly he pushed himself up and stumbled forward, watched how the guards stared at him and made room as he looked on, staring at his Apollo. And he looked back, these wonderful eyes staring at him, at his very being.

Did he know? Did he care? 

Did it matter?

Grantaire knew what he was doing. He knew where this would end. And yet there was no hesitation as he approached Enjolras. His gaze never wavered and he only took his eyes off him as he stopped right at his side and turned to face the guards, his hand reaching out to grasp.

And Apollo reached back, their hands touching, their fingers intertwining. And for one brief moment he wondered if this could have been, if they could have loved each other if he had only dared to talk about it?

Ah yes, there were so many things he never said, so much he always wanted to talk about. But he had always pushed it away, told himself that he would ‘just do it later’. And now? Had he wasted his life away? Should he have done more?

A wry smile tilted his lips up and he gripped this hand harder.

It didn’t matter.

It really didn’t.

He made his choice. He was here now as Apollo raised the flag and held his head high. He was here, he was with him.

And as the guard lined up, raised their weapons, he felt no fear. His heart beat steady and he felt his Apollo, his warm hand, his soft fingers. When they shot, he barely heard it all, he barely felt how he crashed into the wall behind him, he barely felt his breath slowly leaving him, as one thought prevailed:

I love you.


End file.
